


Foolproof

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: F/M, Filk, Gen, Humor, Poetry, Romance, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-20
Updated: 2000-03-20
Packaged: 2018-11-10 08:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11123097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: The things a woman must go through to get noticed.





	Foolproof

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Scented soaps and talcum powder,
    Bubble bath and high-priced shampoo.
    Conditioning rinses and finishing sprays,
    God, the things a woman must do. 
    
    The latest model of WonderBra,
    Take what I got and do what I can.
    Cut the neckline low and he'll notice,
    After all, he's still only a man. 
    
    Delicate temptress black silk panties,
    With a trim of whisper-soft lace.
    He'll probably never know it,
    But they're ready just in case. 
    
    Nature might give me lengthy legs,
    But I still have to climb the stairs,
    Join the gym so I can wear the stockings,
    That will bring his eyes wandering there.
    
    Thigh highs with a garter belt,
    Straighten the seams in the back.
    Four-inch heels on strappy sandals.
    Lord, I hope an ankle doesn't crack.
    
    Microscopic black leather mini skirt,
    Show a tiny waist with a hot pink belt.
    Hoping this time it will do the trick,
    And a little of the ice will melt.  
    
    Shrug on a black leather bolero,
    Over that hot pink, low-cut top.
    An expensive ensemble perhaps,
    But it gives one an excuse to shop.
    
    Carefully choose a matching lipstick,
    In that perfectly sexy shade of pink.
    Blot it and then pout in the mirror,
    Wondering what he will think.
    
    Black liner brings out the eyes,
    A dab of rouge goes on the cheeks.
    Eyeshadow, mascara, and powder.
    I've been planning this for weeks.
    
    Perfume is dabbed on each pulse point,
    To envelop me in a haze of sensual scent.
    If this works it will be worth each penny,
    Of the money that I have spent. 
    
    A final check in the mirror,
    Making sure everything's in place.
    Sexy and sweet and seductive,
    From shoes to skirt to face.
    
    This is it, the day of reckoning.
    No more Miss Nice Girl, I vow.
    I am going to get his attention,
    And I am going to get it now.
    
    Carefully timing the sway of my hips,
    The come-hither look in my eyes,
    I can see the reactions in the other cops,
    Looks of lust and grins of surprise.
    
    They see that I'm on the warpath.
    They know I'll get it at last.
    No man on earth could look at me,
    Could see these charms and go past.
    
    I drape myself against the doorframe,
    He'll come this way, he has no choice.
    I give a wicked smile and greet him,
    A tigress's purr in my voice.
    
    He doesn't stop for a moment.
    His face doesn't change at all.
    Just a nod and "Hello, Francesca,"
    And he's past me into the hall.
    
    I blink hard and my mouth drops open,
    I watch him go, still standing there.
    He came this close to perfume and leather,
    Yet he didn't even seem to care! 
    
    I puzzle over the possible answer,
    But there is only one that I can find.
    I don't care what my brother says,
    I swear to God that Mountie is blind. 
    
    


End file.
